Each year we look forward to calving season. And for some reason, in the past I seem to recall it going off without much of a hitch. Perhaps it's old age, but I seem to remember we used to just wake up in the morning and, boom, there would appear a beautiful healthy calf nursing from it's momma. And then another would appear, and another, and so on. Well, over the past three years it hasn't always gone this way. We have had an assortment of challenges from these beautiful Red Devon cows. Last year we had a calf born mostly blind and unable to nurse (with antibiotics to clear the eye infection and lots of bottle feeding, the calf survived), and we have had other calves breached that didn't end well. But this week was a bit different...
It's early May and the pastures are popping with beautiful lush grass. So it's time to move the cattle back out to the fields as we do each spring. Jared and I decided it was time to move the mother cows out to Codman South field first, as one calf had already been born and we thought it would be best to get these animals out to the fields before any more calves popped on the beaten up winter quarters on the home farm. The mommas needed good grass to keep them strong and it was just easier to have them calve on pasture than to catch and move them after the fact. So we devised a plan and created a large corral to catch the herd. We dropped a luscious bale of hay in the corral and opened up the gates for them all to run inside to get their taste. They mooed with delight, happily munching away on the Codman grown fermented bale. This part went well enough. We got them all in with some coaxing and then proceeded to sort out the yearling calves (born around last year this time - the calves stay with their mommas for about a year, then they are weaned. The calves are then moved to a different field to grow out on their own while their moms have new calves this spring.) Once the calves were sorted out, just the mommas were left inside the corral. We pulled up the livestock trailer and in pairs, we sorted them into the chute and they quite happily jumped on the trailer. They knew the deal, as they had done this many times before. Some of the cows being over 10 years old. This was old hat to them. Again, this all went surprisingly well and within no time we shuttled them, four in the trailer at a time, down the road to Codman South field. They happily leaped off the trailer into the lush grass. Faintly recalling they just left their one-year-old calves behind. Ahh, the grass was so nice. No more mud. Life is good. Calves, what calves? It was all easy peasy. We were proud of ourselves. Pat on the back. It's a wrap, time to go home...
Well...not so fast. Around 7 pm I get an urgent text from Jared that we missed one cow. And boy oh boy, did we. It seems a cow was in labor on the other side of the field, and we didn't quite realize it yet, but she had issues. As we approached her she was laying down, head flopped over...we thought the worst. Already dead. But as we approached, her head popped up. Whew. She was ok. Then, we looked closer. And yes, see the image below. Our cow had sprouted a fifth appendage. It was just hanging out there. La-di-da. She looked at us not really all that perturbed. "Oh, that old thang." Her look seemed to say. "That's nothing, I've had that for years, I'm good, thanks for stopping by". Jared and I looked at each other with quite another look that said, "No no, that is NOT good at all!". That calf is definitely stuck. Crud. So we moved in closer and she didn't move. Ok good, she realizes she needs help. Then we figured, ok, let's grab that hoof and see what happens. Just as quickly as we tried to help her, she shot upwards like a rocket and proceeded to jog away, fifth foot akimbo, bouncing in the air as she trotted away from us. It was quite a sight. I think at this point though, we realized she was not in distress and decided to just let her be and hope she would still be able to handle this on her own. Wrong.
About an hour later, with Jen still at work, I grabbed Abe so we could check on the cow. This time we found her on top of the hill lying down. Abe posed for a glamour shot and tugged a bit on his own to no avail. The cow didn't move - nor did the calf still stuck inside…so perhaps this time the cow was ready for assistance.
I called Jared and he returned with some straps that we could use to get a good strong grip on that slippery hoof. Mind you, the hoof was not moving at all on its own. So we already thought the calf was dead and we were just in survival mode to save the mother. When he arrived we secured the strap on the hoof and started gently pulling. We could see her trying to push the calf out but it didn't budge. Then she stood up, and with us still pulling ...started running, RUNNING, like yes, really RUNNING down the hillside towards the front of the field. We were like, uh oh. This is not good. With Jared and I still in tow, sort of like jet skiers skiing down a muddy hillside - we were being pulled bigly down the hill. Jogging quickly behind her to keep up. We decided, as an act of self-preservation, to let go before we got our arms yanked off. If that happened, it pretty much wouldn't help anyone. Frustratingly, we let go and watched her run off with the strap still attached to the calf foot - bobbing up and down as she trotted away. It was quite a scene. Well, at least she was still strong, we agreed. It was starting to get dark and realized it was now or never. We just had to keep at it. We decided to try and get her in the corral where the headlock was located. If we could get her in the headlock, then we really had a good chance of getting the calf out. With much running through the mud to and fro, we finally got her in the corral. Whew. Ok good. Once in the corral, we then had a bit of a mud dance to get her into the headlock. It wasn't easy but we were determined, and she was getting tired, so eventually, we got her in and locked her head into place. Abe tried to soothe her by petting her head, but it wasn't a very calm situation. But was worth a try.
Then the fun part. We put the strap back on, as it had fallen off the hoof in all the commotion. It was quite dark and we were at the point of no return. Jared had a little ratchet strap that then attached to the straps and I started to tighten the ratchet. Jared was fishing around inside, the...uhh, cow, to try and get the other hoof out. If we could get the other leg out then hopefully the whole critter would slip out. We kept at it and with much searching, he found the other hoof and we kept pulling, tightening the ratchet, and so on. The cow was definitely in distress now and to be honest, I don't remember all the sequence of events. At some point, she fell to the ground, moaned loudly and Jared got a much better grip on the very slimy calf. Once the second hoof was finally poking out we both tugged hard on the calf and it slowly started to come loose. It all happened quickly at this point and we were able to pull the calf free. Shockingly, incredibly, it was ALIVE! Amazing! The calf started to sputter, trying to breathe. It had some blood on its nose so we were unsure of how healthy it was. We cleared its mouth of fluid and shifted its head so it was pointing downwards to allow fluid to escape. Man was the calf slippery! But it was breathing, it seemed strong. A relief. We checked on the mom and she was not in great shape. Totally exhausted. Eyes rolling back in her head. Abe was trying to soothe her -but prying open her eyelids to try and look at her eyes probably wasn't that soothing to her. Hey, he's seven. He was just trying. We decided to let her be for now. She needed to rest. Abe offered to play some music on Spotify to ease the tension and even got a song playing only to be told by Jared, "Not NOW Abe". We were all stressed. Abe shut off Katy Perry. Maybe not the right track anyway. Relieved and tired, but proud of our efforts, we decided there was nothing more we could do. The mom needed time to gain strength and we would return in the morning to find out if it was all worth the effort.
Early the next morning, coffee in hand, I walked up the field hoping all was well. The first thing I noticed was the head lock was empty and the cow was gone. Whew! I was dreading the thought of seeing the cow still lying there, still. Then I saw the momma with her beautiful brown calf. All cleaned up and looking fresh as a daisy. They both survived and looked amazing. Later that morning Jared went up to check on them again, and to tag the calf, 101. Mom and calf were together, with the calf nursing. All good.
